Award shows line up to the left. We have already been contacted by the Golden Globes and MTV Movie awards. And for good reason.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Drab Vendrell and Chad Dukes starring in Street Kings. A McKnee Joint.

When till these clowns learn? First Ryan from Traffic, then Stahi and Sven Lloyd. Dane and Othello thought they were above the driving force in the halls of WJFK. They learned. The Hard Way. Watch and learn why you don’t cross the most electrifying force in radio history. The Main Event Mafia.

Moaning.  This time from the mud room.  Blaine didn’t know how they had gotten past the alarm or gotten past the dog but none of that mattered.  Kelly had taken refuge in the panic room so his panic was not overwhelming,  Purge the house, drag the bodies outside, set them on fire and lock up tight once more.  First things first.  The mud room.

Blaine drew the slide back on his pistol to chamber the the first round in the second magazine of hollow points he had used tonight.  7 from the first mag went into the gurgler at the bottom of the stairs, 4 more into the one in the foyer.   In all honesty Blaine could have dispatched them with one bullet a piece to the forehead.  If there was one thing he had learned from this plague, it was  that the undead were best dealt with by not skimping on the ammunition.  The final four rounds were used on the gurgler that was scratching at the dining room window.  There wasn’t much of a chance that the abomination could make his way inside the house, but then again there shouldn’t be ANY zombies inside the house, should there?  The Moaning continued.  

Blaine tiptoed towards the mud room, and held his pistol out in front of him.  The door was slightly ajar, which was about the 10th thing that didn’t make sense about the way this evening was going.  All doors closed all the time was rule #1 in his house.  Zombies can’t open doors.  That was one thing they knew, and they didn’t know much else.  Like where they came from.  Why they were there.  Why the government wasn’t doing much abut them.  The United States, or what was left of it was at war with several different “factions” at this particular time, but undead stalking the countryside seemed like an equally pressing matter to Blaine.  The commander in chief did not agree.  As was often the case with the United States, problems abroad seemed to come before the problems at home.  Now the problem was in Blaine’s home and he needed to put his .45 against the temple of this particular problem and pull the trigger.  He could concern himself with the  domestic affairs of his besieged government at another time.

Blaine’s hand was on the door now and he pushed it open.  The stench was overwhelming.  He gagged and nearly staggered but braced himself against the wall behind him.  If there was one thing that could be said about Blaine it would be that he did not scare easily.  He did not lose control of himself in stressful, even dangerous situations.  It was this fact alone that made the next few moments so extraordinary.  Blaine was terrified.  The color drained from his face.  Zombies.  Dozens of them.  Blaine was expecting three gurglers at the very most and was greeted by the horde.  They were packed on top of one another, their gaunt, lifeless faces yawning their horrible intentions.  They leaned out of the mud room and began spilling forward across the hall.  Blaine had seen this many on CNN and UNND but never in person.  His complex had personal security up until last July.  The undead had never had this sort of presence in his neck of the woods.  Yet here they were.

Blaine raised his arm and fired.  Gore exploded from the eye of the zombie directly in front of him.  It staggered and dropped to it’s knees as black ooze poured from the crater where it’s eye used to be.  It was replaced by 4 more undead as they pressed forward towards their meal.  Blaine fired and he fired again.  Whatever this curse was that spread from the gurglers to the living, it was transmitted via bite, not via fluid transfer alone.  Blaine shot what looked to be a 90 year old woman in the chest and stomach and was covered in entrails for his trouble.  He wiped the gore from his face and ejected the mag from his Colt and slapped another home.  The zombies were moving quicker now.  Smelling his flesh.  His blood.  Maybe even his brains if you believed what hollywood told us about these monsters.  Blaine wracked the bullet into the chamber and retreated back towards the staircase leading upstairs.  The panic room was up there in the master bedroom.  There were enough zombies to make Blaine consider securing himself inside of it with his wife until a cleaning crew could be summoned to purge this infestation.  Blaine took aim at his nearest attacker and squeezed.  The bullet spilled the zombies brains onto the hard wood floor.  He was about to call it a night and move up the stairs to safety when the gurgler behind him sunk it’s rotten teeth into his neck.  Blaine screamed.

After the initial wave of terror, his discipline reasserted itself.  Blaine spun and drove the butt of his Colt deep into the zombies cheek.  It took a step back with the thunderous impact.  Bone splinters fractured as the 1911 was leveled at the fracted face and was fired.  The zombie’s head was no more.  Blood was pouring from Blaines neck and it continued to pour as the gurglers from the mud room used the distraction to close the distance.  They were on him now.  Blaine swung his pistol around wildly, but the undead were dragging him to the ground.  He fired and fired, emptying the rest of his rounds into the stomachs of his antagonists.  This proved to be unwise as the dead weight drove him to the ground and pinned him.  The rest of the horde began to scratch and claw their way through the pale undead flesh of their fallen companions to get at Blaine.  Get at their supper. It was then that a deafening roar sounded through the house.  Followed by another.  Blaine starred up through a crimson mask of his own blood to see his wife kelly holding his smoking, double barrel 12 gauge in her hands.  

Kelly ejected the two casings and slammed to more shells into the shotgun.  Blaine began to drag himself out from under the lifeless body of the zombies that had him pinned.  The smell was all around him.  The smell of death.  He could feel the smell in his veins.  His eyes, his ears and his mouth.  He could see his wife.  See she was trying to save him.  The 12 gauge sounded again.  Blaine looked up as a gurgler exploded above him, dousing him in a fresh coat of viscous, blackened ooze.  The smell.  It was consuming him.  It was in his brain in his very soul.  Blain vomited.  Not his dinner.  Something worse.  Much, Much worse.  He was hungry.  A hunger that he had never known in his life.  A hunger that would be all he knew from now on.  His wife Kelly.  She was reaching for him with one arm, and aiming the shot gun at the zombies with the other  Trying to fight them and help him at the same  time.  He remembered  her face at their wedding  He remembered her face when they bought this house.  He remembered her face when the plague was first reported.  And now he couldn’t remember anything but his hunger.  She grabbed his arm in a vein attempt to save the man she loved.  She grabbed his arm and he sunk his teeth into her wrist.   At some level, Blaine was horrified at his own actions, but that didn’t stop him.  He bit her again on the forearm and drank in her warm and unpolluted blood.  His hunger was insatiable.   She screamed and Blaine moaned.  He pulled himself up her body and bit her again, this time on the cheek.  Tears mixed with the blood that flowed down his wife’s once beautiful face.  Kelly drove her knee into Blaines midsection then smashed the stock of the shotgun into this temple.  He dropped to one knee and looked up at his wife who would join him in his hunger soon enough. 

Kelly’s tears stopped.  Calm swept over her features.  She looked down at what used to be her husband.  She looked at the wailing corpses behind him, pushing their way past their own dead to try and finish what Blaine started.  She remember his face at their wedding.  She remembered his face when they bought this house.  She remembered his face when the plague was first reported.  She remembered all of this, then she leveled the shotgun at her husband and blew his head clean off his shoulders.  Blaine’s headless corpse dropped to the ground  where it was joined moments later by Kelly’s headless corpse and then an empty shotgun.  And the undead moaned…

Problem? We got the solution. Diddy told us that mo money means mo problems. I don’t agree. Mo money is what we all about on the Fukerton, young blood. Ya’ll bettah ask somebody.

You better watch your step if you walk the halls of 10800 Main Street.  Three Victims have already been claimed. Booker T Shirt, Kurt Schembechler and Nash Dukes run the hallways now.  The MeM is taking no prisoners.  Who will be next? If yer on facebook, it gets real real if you click right here.

As some of you may know, I do a little radio show here in the Washington DC area known as the Big O and Dukes show.  We could be given the boot at any moment, but for now it’s a pretty plush gig.  Never in my wildest dreams did I believe that this particular radio show would ever be cartoon worthy.  I knew we were good, but ANIMATION GOOD?  Make sure you give this thing a good rating, because it’s just about the most humbling slice of heaven I have ever happened upon. My favorite part is the audible slurp out of the double gulp that I had that day.  For another great animation based another great radio show click here.

Well, in the time since I recorded the vlog and when I posted it, I played about an hour more of the game.  It friggen rules.  Cole Train’s entrance is epic.  I won’t give too many spoilers.  I wouldn’t want many, but if you want to know NOTHING about the game before you play it, skip the vid.  It is just the best franchise out there right now, until Bioshock 2 comes round.  Revel in this gaming fans.  We are in a golden age.

Who………..does…………..number……………two……….WEERRKKK FOOOORRR????  Alright, that was hack.  I’m just excited for The Fukerton’s Second Video Blog.  You should be as well.  We tackle only the freshest topics and the most controversial subject matter here on the interwebs leading blog named after ass eating.  Click play, true believer

“Welcome to Atlanta, where the players play.”

In the pic above from right to lame, Chad Dukes, Dane and Othello.  UFC 88 was a blast.  I would agree with Luke Thomas from Bloodyelbow.com: most people that go to MMA fights are idiots.  I have never seen a bigger group of dipshits in my entire life.  From people screaming “Let see some blood!” to assholes in tight collared shirts standing up in the middle of fights showing each other their cell phones.  Despite all that, it was one of the best sporting events I have ever attended.  Phillips arena was sold out and there was a palpable energy in the air.

The first thing I noticed is that the UFC knows how to take care of their fans.  We were at a bar called Stats randomly before the fight and I happened to notice there was quite a hub-bub at the front of the bar.  I looked up and guess who I happened to see at a table signing autographs, unannounced?  That would be Cain Valasquez and The Natural himself: Randy Couture.  The line wasn’t even that long to get to them, and they both signed everything and took pictures FOR FREE!!!!!  I was swatting at my rod the entire night after that.

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The fights we pretty good for the most part.  To add to what I said previously, the UFC knows how to make their fans happy.  3 times during the night, I noticed that fighters that had already competed were sitting in the crowd with the rest of us commoners.  Case in point, after Ryo Chonan def. Roan Carneiro via split decision, I noticed he was sitting in the seat in front of our group to watch Dan Henderson.  Of course he was really cool and had no problem taking a picture us, posted thusly.

There were plenty of celebs and plenty of fighters there to watch the event too.  Al Horford, Big Boi and the Tap Out crew just to name a few.  Another thing the UFC does is that they send swinging dicks out into different parts of the venue just to take a few pictures and mic with we, the little people.  I saw Forrest Griffen, Rampage Jackson and the man himself.  Mr President: Dana white.  He took quite a few pics and seemed to be way less of an asshole than I have read on many websites.  I didn’t want to knock children away to get to Dana, but the dude in this picture with him did just that.  Gave a forearm shiver to some poor asian kid.

The fights themselves were great, but nothing compared to the Liddell/Evans fight.  The entrances were great, the music was perfect and the intensity is unmatched in sport.  When the Iceman came out, I thought the roof was going to come off Phillips Arena.  There were massive “Chuck” chants the entire time, but to no avail.  When Sugar Rahard knocked Liddell naked from the waist down, everyone was freaking the fuck out.  No one wanted to believe it or could believe it.  I was rooting for Liddell of course, but you could not be NOT excited for the ending of that fight.  I have never seen anything like it.  Moments before the missed uppercut that shocked the world:

Despite the people in the arena trying to ruin the entire event, UFC 88 was an amazing time.  If you even get a chance to get in the building on one of these fiascos, I recommend it.  The UFC puts on a great show, combined with a great sport.  They did a great job without talking down to their fans or catering to children.  I think every other sport should take a few notes from what Dana is putting together in Las Vegas.

The animal kingdom rules. I still think Sam Elliot could kill both of these things with a can of Coors Original, but this is impressive none the less.  I have eaten Alligator, and I know it wouldnt be worth all this work.  I have always assumed the Great White is your top dog in the animal kingdom, but if leopards are dragging crocks out of the water and slaughtering them, they might be zooming up the charts.

With the crocodile snapping its powerful jaws furiously, the two animals somersaulted and grappled. Despite the crocodile’s huge weight and strength, the leopard had the upper hand catching its prey by the throat.

Apparently, this photographer was trying to take pictures of Hippos when the Billy Dee Williams of Leopards when all Lando on this fucking Croc.  So I guess as ferocity goes, the ranking is Me > Fedor > Leopard > Crocodile.  It’s worth a click of the link above to see the entire set of photos, they really are something.  So am I.